Return
by Licuma Lome
Summary: Severus goes back to Lord Voldemort for the first time since he went over to Dumbledore's side. Rating is for some minor violence.


Awww... My poor Severus! I hope you like it.

* * *

_Voldemort pressed the mark on his arm with a grim satisfaction. He looked around the clearing with narrowed eyes, wondering if he would be fool enough to return—and hoping he wouldn't be stupid enough to stay away._



A burning blister bloomed on his arm. Jerking back the sleeve and dreading what he would see, Severus examined the skin on his forearm with a pale, slender finger. The Dark Mark was there, bright red and slowly turning black. He hesitated, knowing what he had to do but not wanting to do it—not even knowing if he could.

_Coward_, he cursed himself suddenly. _Afraid to seek the revenge you have promised yourself these past months? Afraid to repay Dumbledore for his help and trust? You are no better than you were._

Severus stood up and walked down the middle of his dungeon classroom, uncharacteristically not saying anything about his students' pathetic attempts at a Strengthening Solution. "I will be back," he said smoothly, and whisked out of the room.



Thirty minutes later, his Mark was burning with no less urgency and it was beginning to make his eyes water. _Have patience_, he thought fiercely. _I am coming as fast as I can! _

Finally, on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, Severus pulled out his wand and, taking a deep breath, disapparated.



He reappeared in a large clearing, just outside a circle of those he had once counted as friends. It was dark. The only light was a pale glimmer cast by the silver fingernail curve of a moon. The land was scarred and hideous; the trees around the rough circle were bare and scorched. Turned the other way, Severus did not see the circle open and he did not see his former master approach.

And then there was only pain. A thousand knives ripped his skin as Severus gritted his teeth. He would not give in as he had before. He was _not_ weak. He would _not_ go back to what he had been. He barely felt his knees hit the ground. When the spell lifted, he remained there, palms flat on the ground, head bowed, panting. He collected himself. He refused to let the Dark Lord see that he had hurt him. Shaking, he stood and turned.

Lord Voldemort struck again without mercy. Severus braced himself against the torture, planting his feet firmly apart and clenching his fists. Voldemort raised his wand, a twisted smile warping his sickly features. Severus relaxed. Blood ran unnoticed down his hands from where his fingernails had broken the skin of his palms.

"So," rasped the Dark Lord. "You've come back."

Severus watched him warily.

"What took you so long?"

"Dumbledore was making complications," Severus lied easily. He prayed that Voldemort would believe.

It was possible that he did, but he gave no sign of it. Instead, he waved his want, throwing Severus backwards onto the scarred ground. "You are doing your job still, I assume?"

Severus nodded with difficulty, fighting not to wince at the pain. Voldemort stared into his eyes. He let his mind relax and go blank. _A clear mind_, he half-thought. _Keep him from breaking in…_ Voldemort frowned.

"If you have nothing to hide," the towering, ghostly figure hissed like the snake he had once relied on, "why do you block me from your mind?" He flicked his wand like a whip and a deep cut ripped the ex-Death Eater's stomach. He twitched uncontrollably, barely beating the impulse to curl up against the gash. Severus closed his eyes and brought a fabricated image of himself spying on Dumbledore floating to the front of his consciousness as Voldemort attacked his mind again.

Taking deep breaths, Severus calmed himself as well as he could. He was bleeding badly, he knew—he felt the blood turning the dirt beneath him into a sticky, congealing pool. Voldemort slowly nodded and Severus nearly wept with relief. He staggered to his feet and took his old place in that old circle.

He gazed around at the circle. There was Malfoy, the one he had so easily deceived into believing he worshipped. There were Crabbe and Goyle, whose children he was seriously considering failing this year. Rudolphus Lestrange—and Bellatrix. A wave of emotion washed over him with the shadow of physical feelings. He looked into her evil, twinkling eyes and glanced at her full, red lips and, for a moment, he wanted to run over to her, pin her to the ground and…

But he had to fight it. He jerked his mind away from that—he would _not give in_. He couldn't go back to old habits that had been so hard to break. Severus made his face blank and calm, masking his feelings. That was, after all, his job.



Severus was as pale as a noon shadow when he made it back to the edge of Hogsmeade. He had to get to the castle. He was still bleeding—his robes were crusted with dried blood and soaked with that which was still wet. It dripped onto the ground, turning the soil black. He slipped back into the Hogwarts grounds and stumbled over the distance, forcing himself to keep going.

Fifteen meters left… ten… just eight more meters. One left, now. He crawled up the steps, finally collapsing at the door, curled up and clutching at his abdomen. He tried to reach his wand, but he couldn't lift it. _Dumbledore!_ he thought desperately. _Minerva, Poppy… Anyone!_ But they didn't come, and, defeated, he let his head drop hard on the stone in front of the castle.



Miraculously, the Potions Master was not dead when Dumbledore found him. He lay, paler than ever and weak, in a pool of his own blood, curled up like a cat. The Headmaster knelt beside him quickly, stretching him out on the flat surface at the top of the steps. With a wave of his wand, he mended the skin, but Severus was still dangerously short of blood.

Dumbledore moved him with a charm inside and called for Madame Pomfrey. "He's dying," she whispered, and poured a cup of potion.



Severus opened his eyes slowly. His vision was blurry. He blinked—once… twice… it came into focus. "Dumbledore," he murmured in the low, silky drawl that kept classes quiet effortlessly.

"You did well, Severus," he was told by his aged mentor. "You did very well."

Severus nodded, knowing in the back of his mind that this was only the beginning. He traced the livid mark on his arm with one pale, slender finger and waited for it to burn again.


End file.
